Muted
by The-GatorMelon
Summary: (Cry x Reader) [Name] is an orphan, who in a freak accident loses her voice. Unable to deny herself guiltless when blamed for stealing, she runs from her family. Hiding in a strangers attic until the brunette owner finds her.
1. Silenced

_You trusted them. Each classmate, neighbor, teacher, and even the younger children of the neighborhood. None of them were able to understand you, yet their sympathy was plentiful. _

_Your parents were kind, young and wealthy. The perfect couple, but you now believe no good thing lasts._

_When you were thirteen, you received a phone call around 3 in the morning. Your parents were hit by the get away car during a robbery of a nearby jewelry store. You were heart broken, you couldn't believe it was true. You didn't want to! For weeks you lived in your home with an officer as your caretaker. You were an only child and now an orphan. _

_Officer Walsh, a tall blonde young policeman, watched over how you acted through all of the case. He told you everything he could about it to try to comfort you. Apparently there were three men and one woman in the car, their moving truck was found burning in a ditch minutes after the crime. The police found the truck before the found the bodies of your parents. Walsh wasn't allowed to share the murder files, but late one night you found him asleep at the dining table. You were too small to carry him to the couch and knew he hadn't been sleeping well. So you simply covered him with a blanket. _

_His papers were thrown all over the floor, you picked up a manila envelope and put the scattered files inside. You saw something that night that made you shake. A photograph. You couldn't rip you eyes away from it. It was so horrible yet beautiful. You hid the photo in your journal. Walsh respected your space, so you believed he'd never find it._

_Under three weeks, two of the four responsible for your parents deaths were captured, and one had commit suicide to avoid the cops. Leaving only one to roam the area. Officer Walsh decided it was time for you to move in with any of your nearby relatives. The grandparents on your mother's side had both passed away, and the grandparents on your father's side lived with your uncle in Florida. There were other aunts and uncles all over, but each had kids of their own and no room to take care of a teen. So Walsh set up plans to send you to Florida. Before you stepped on the plane, Walsh gave you his number in case things don't work out. You thanked him, then took the first step into a empty world._

**(Your POV)**

Your walk home from work was peaceful, the breeze was cooler than usual and the smell of the salty ocean could be smelt from anywhere. It was just after you had just graduated high school, 'Nama demanded you have a job, in her words she's only required to provide you with food, shelter, and clothes. If you wanted anything else you had to work for it. The only thing you ever got from your grandparents was on your sixteenth birthday. And it was an outdated Apple laptop with a charger that only worked when it wanted to and half the keys were either faded or missing. Lucky for you the neighbors are always hosting yard sales; otherwise, you wouldn't have ever bought that flexible pink silicone keyboard with a late reaction time. It was only two bucks. Was it even worth it?

Your walk was quiet, but when you stepped in the back door of the house it was a different story.

"[Name]! Did you get the groceries?" 'Nama's voice cracked when she said your name.

"No 'Nama. I bought them yesterday!" you shout back as you walked towards your room. You heard her footsteps stomping across the old linoleum floor, then the click of her tongue.

"LIAR! [Name] there ain't milk in here!" she slammed the fridge door. With your hand on the handle of garage door, you yell without thinking.

"Check if uncle Shawn took it downstairs, I know I bought two half-gallons." you reach into the garage and pulled out a small window mop. 'Nama's howl was a glass-shattering cry.

"SHAWN! Bring up the damn milk!" you could vaguely hear Shawn's reply.

You hooked the window mop into the handle on ceiling. And with it, you pulled down the attic's door. A ladder sat folded on top the trap door. You pulled on the string attached to the lowest rung. The ladder clattered on the wood floor and you climbed up. Leaving the window mop between the rungs.

The attic was your bedroom it was unfinished, but the gaps between each column were covered with movie and gaming posters.

Once you were off the ladder, you turned on the light and pulled up on the rope so the trap door closed. The room was scalding hot, you dragged your feet over to an extension cord in the corner and turned on both of your fans.

You threw yourself onto your mattress, and sank straight into the pit your body had made over the years. The old thing was just as cheap as the rest of the house, just a pile of ten dollar foam mats. At least the blankets and sheets resembled your personality. Star Wars themed bed covers, Shawn's hand-me-downs. You sighed and stared at the ceiling. A poster of Chris Pike as Captain Kirk hung above your bed.

'I can't wait 'till that masking tape gives out.' You thought, reaching your arms out to him. "Come to me Pike-sama." You whispered before flopping your arms down on the bed. I distant beep reached your ears from across the room. Your laptop was calling your name.

The old thing was your baby, it had all the files, links, and pictures for everything you needed. It was your only kind of privacy, it was like a small portal to a different dimension. A place where you could be yourself, watch what you wanted, or play whatever you wanted; and nobody would much care. You certainly weren't getting yelled at through the screen at least.

In the short time over one year, you've never 'surfed the web' but you had been shown websites by your co-workers. YouTube became the most used link on your hot bar. You had accounts on Tumblr, Facebook, Devianart, Quotev / , and even a MySpace. But out of them all, YouTube was your get away train from 'Nama's nagging and Shawn's alcohol breath. How many hours had you spent watching gaming walkthroughs or creepypastas? Or how many illegal recordings of classic movies had you watched? Ahh the many fanfictions read on that screen.

Noises came from downstairs, a series of bangs and shattered glass. Shawn's drunk slur was a deep and inaudible.

"Shawn, I can't understand a damn thing your sayin'!" 'Nama shouted at him before more shattered glass could be heard while Shawn babbled through tears.

"Quit your cryin'! And leave my dishes outta your tantrum, ya big baby!"

More shattered glass could be heard. Then the bang of a pot or pan. The cabinet could have broken leaving the pans to fall, but it seemed more likely 'Nama hit Shawn with the wok.

You sighed, cupping your cheek in your hand. Quietly typing away comments on YouTube videos. Click, click, click.

'Ive been on for hours. And I've ended up on THAT side of YouTube again.' You think about how silent the house seemed. Around this time Shawn and 'Nama would be arguing, again. But they weren't, why? Curiosity set itself in your mind, and you went downstairs to take a look.

You pushed down the trap door listening to the ladder clatter in the floor. 'I'll leave it open. I expect to go back up right after.' you inspected your surroundings, eyes scanning each surface until the came a cross the shattered glass on the kitchen floor. It was in a single heap, 'Nama must have kicked it into a pile then left. You grabbed the broom and dustpan, then begun to sweep up the mess.

'Might as well, so 'Nama doesn't forget it's there in the middle of the night when she goes to get a drink. That would get real ugly real fast.' As you swept, you could hear footsteps coming up from downstairs. You turn to see 'Nama with her hair hanging loosely from her bun, and her eyeshadow forming chunks in the creases of her brow. She saw you with the broom in hand and scowled.

"Your good-for-nothin' uncle should be the one to clean that you know." Her face was contorted, 'they really must have been arguing again. Execpt in the basement, thats why I couldn't hear them.' 'Nama usually didn't use the stairs for attic or basement so this time it must have got really bad. Because the house had three floors and three people. The basement was Shawn's domain, the attic mine, and even though she owned the whole house 'Nama lived on the ground floor.

"I don't mind 'Nama. You look tired; take a rest and I'll finish this." You smiled at her but her eyes flamed up again.

"I will not rest 'til that wasted slob cleans his mess!" She pointed her finger at the pile before you, and stomped one foot on the floor. "You let him take advantage of you [Name], one of these days his gunna do somethin' that you can't undo." Her stare intensified. She was still fuming from her earlier argument. 'She's not going to like it if I keep going but I doubt I can get Shawn to clean it.' You carefully tried to figure out what to do while you fiddled with the broom in your hands.

"Don't gossip about me behind my back, woman." Shawn groggily shuffled his feet up the stairs, his voice could be heard echoing off the stairwell walls as he sassed back to 'Nama.

"What are you gonna do about it, pig?" She glared at him. His head poked upstairs behind the railing. Shawn was red-faced and his hair was matted to his forehead. With shallow breathes he managed to continue their earlier argument.

"You don't know what I'm going through, Ma! Its so hard to keep up now."

"What? You mean I don't know what its like to love with a skank who'd do anything for a little cash? That cause I wasn't an ugly lil' ground-mole!"

"NO! You don't know the stress I go through with having this job! And shut-up, Tiana is not a cheap whore! " He slammed his fist down on the table. 'He's acting like a deprived teenager! He's only had a job for three months of his life, the past three. Thats not hard enough to drink yourself sick.' You could tell from her unmoving gaze that 'Nama knew what he was talking about the whole time. And that she hated Tiana…

"I turned to drinking because I don't know what else to do. YOU forced me into that job! Because you ran out of money and don't wanna take a job yourself!" Shawn was stepping into a sensitive topic.

'Don't say it Shawn! Or all hell's going to break loose! And I'm going to get stuck in the middle of it.' You couldn't help but think of how bad this was going to end but couldn't do anything but just watch.

"I'll have you know, son, I have been looking for waitressing jobs! You're not the only one getting work to the bone." 'Nama was looking more and more annoyed. Like she was starring at a bug on the wall instead of her son.

"B.S! You made that up on the spot. You just needed someone else to bring home the goods so you can sit on you pretty chair and watch soap operas all day. Kinda hard now, huh? Now that Pop's out of the picture-" Shawn was cut off, and you gasped. 'Nama's hand left deep red lines on Shawn's face.

'She's cracked! He lost this one.' Your heart was racing, hoping neither of them remembered you were kneeling on the floor only feet away.

"You don't know nothin' about heart ache, boy. Quitcha belly aching and go cry to that cheap lil' princess of yours." 'Nama stood in her victory stance towering over Shawn's body, as he draped one arm over the table. She turned to leave after stating her claim.

The queen retaking her throne, but the stallion was not yet broken.

Shawn's gaze landed on 'Nama's back, as he curled his hand into a fist.

"'NAMA!" You screamed while Shawn stood up and stumbled towards her. You couldn't think of anything else to do. So as 'Nama turned towards her charging son, you wedged your way between her and Shawn.

He did not stop. You had closed your eyes at the wrong time, using your body as a shield even though you were still shaking. Shawn's fist hit you clean in the neck. You cough and sputter. You can't breathe! Your feet stumble over one another, trying to regain the balance lost in the blow.

"[Name]!" 'Nama's shrill voice cut into your ears, making your head spin even more. You topple over the broom left on the floor. You spin, trying to stay standing. But you failed. Falling on your knees… in the pile of shattered glass. 'Nama wailed at you and Shawn stood dumbstruck.

But the worst of it all, was that you didn't even scream.

_**(A/N) I type most of my stories on my iPod for conveyance. So halfway through this chapter my hispanic friend stole my iPod (not being stereotypical -3- it happened) and he wrote what he thought should happen...**_

_**"Then Shawn forgot the milk and died. Nama kept yelling and then eventually went to see what was going on. She saw Shawn there lying on the floor dead. Then Nama went into nine tailed fox mode and went crazy terrorizing Florida. Then came Killer Bee the eight tail jinchuriki and killed Nama and the florida went back to normal."**_

_**3-Gator**_


	2. Ignored

div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"emBefore you is a scene so foreign and distant. The characters so familiar, yet acting so alien. You stand gazing at the jewelry store across the street. Walsh stood next to you with a hand on your shoulder. He wasn't gazing at the store, in fact he was wearing a blindfold. Wispy forms of a man and woman danced hand and hand across the street. They're dressed in black funeral attire with small while rose corsages. The jewelry store takes on less of a welcoming form. But looks more like a pesky mirage, teasing you with water always just out of reach./em/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"em From the side of the store, you can barely make out the figure of a truck. Looking like a shark, attracted to laughter instead of blood, the van swims out of the think noise surrounding the store and knocking over the couple. They slipped beneath the great beast's belly. And many blue and white rose petals, melted off their vague appearances. The petals blew away, following the current made by the sharks movements. One swiftly floats in front of your face. Without hesitation, to clamp both hands around the petal in a single clap. But the crack from that clap, silenced everything. Walsh turns to face you, his expression unmoving behind the blindfold. He reaches behind his back removing a set of cuffs from his belt. Your eyes widen and you try to pull away, yet he still swiftly locks your wrists together. Unable to release the petal trapped beneath your fingers, you tell Walsh to release you. 'What are you doing Walsh? I'm not the bad guy let me go!' is what you wanted to say. But when your lips parted, it was as if you were underwater and only bubbles floated out. No noise. The petal that remained wedged in your palms began to heat up. It was burning your hands, imprinting a mark or painful reminder. You shake your arms and scream at Walsh to remove the cuffs. But he can't see nor hear you. /em/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"emWhy does it hurt more to be ignored, than being branded?/em/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"strong(Your POV) /strong/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"Your eyelids feel so heavy, as if chained to the floor. You could barely see the light from your desk lamp through the tiny crack you manage to open. Once you were able to pull them apart however, all you could see were Chris Pine's beautiful eyes. 'What the...' curiosity and confusion force you to reach up over the covers and push the Star Trek poster off your face. 'It finally fell, huh. Gah! The room is freezing, I don't want to get up.' you curl deeper into the foam mats, but your socks are caught on the sheets. A searing pain courses up your thigh and into your gut. You hiss then straighten back out as you were before. 'Ow ow ow, Why do my legs sting so badly?' gently, you sit up and remove the sheets to see your shins. The bed sheets fly right off and collect in a ball on the floor. 'Weird, I usually have my sheets tucked-in at the foot of the bed.' you gaze back at your legs. Knee high socks that are stripped pink and white, were prickled and bumpy. Lifting your legs turned out to be more painful then anticipated, as you try to remove your socks. You hiss between your teeth trying so hard not to cry out figuring 'Nama would still be asleep. After a long while, you became able to see under the pink and white strips. There are sets of white fabric wrapped angrily around your shins. The bandages are held together with metal clips, and at some points dried blood seeped through to soil the fabric. 'What happened? Why am I bandaged? Is that MY blood?' You don't know or understand what is going on. Your heart races as you decide to remove the bandages. Gently unwrapping the fabric around your left leg, your heartbeat quickens. 'The fabric keeps getting more and more bloody.' You think while continuing to unwrap. As soon as you saw your flesh, you drop the bandages curled in your fist. Several stitched up gash wounds cover your shins in miss shaped lines. Each two inches or three inches. Some straight or curved; others look like stabbed holes. But all of them were sealed with dry blood. You gasp, eyes wide and full of fear. You unwrap your right leg to find a similar scene of scattered lesions. 'Wha...What is THIS?' You begin to shake, not just because the room was cold, but because you were full of confusion and fear. ''Nama! 'Nama!' You want so hard to scream out but you can't move your eyes away from your shins. And your voice seem caught in your throat. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"Oh how the crow laughs with the reaper./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"Your body feels light and your head is throbbing. 'I'm going to pass out. I need to call 'Nama.' You open your mouth to call to her, you give a pathetic wheeze before erupting into a fit of couphs. 'What! Come on, no more fear I need 'Nama!' You open your mouth yet again to scream, however, all you get is hot air and a sore throat. ''Nama! 'Nama! Please! Shawn! Someone please I'm scared!' You think of all the things you want to shout. You want to say something, you need help. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You fall out of bed, too dizzy to feel the impact of you back against the hard floor. Your shins sear in agony, begging you not to move. But you drag yourself backwards towards the ladder. 'Please, please be awake.' Your arms give out and you fall to the floor yet again. Your room never felt so loney and you could never recall a time the ceiling loomed so darkly. 'No! No no no no no... I'm almost there!' You slam you fist down in anger, again and again. 'Shawn or 'Nama please! Help me...' Your eyes flutter shut again, but not before you caught a glimps of the trap door falling open and hear the ladder clatter on the hallway's wood floor. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"Shawn's alcohol breath was stained on all his clothes. And you regained consciousness the moment you smelt his shirt. Your face was buried in his chest as he carried you bridal style back to your bed. You squirm, coughing uncontrollabley while trying to shout at the drunk. You elbow Shawn in the stomach, he grunts and drops you on you bed suddenly. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Oi! Lil' brat! I'm tryin' to help you." Shawn's voice wasn't slurred like when he's drunk. It truth you thought he sounded slightly sincere. 'He must not be drinking as much. Did 'Nama make him quit cold turkey?' /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Shawn! Help me up once your done moving her." 'Nama calls up the ladder. Shawn turned to help her, offering her his hand. You sit up, but too fast. Falling back down again clutching your head. 'Ouch! Bad idea...' You hiss through your teeth. 'Nama and Shawn approach your bedside, both with worried expressions. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Poor baby. Why'd you remove the bandages, Shawn?" 'Nama growled accusingly at him. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Woman, you pickin' a fight with me already? She was like that when I got up here." Shawn reaches for the wads of fabric you had previously ripped off your shins./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Well then wrap 'er back up!" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""I'm working' on it!" Shawn and 'Nama continue to growl at each other. Your breathing became shaky and broken. You throw your arms down onto the bed, and dig your nails into the sheets. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Quit struggling, child! The doctor said you can't move too much!" 'Nama's anger turns to your thrashing body. You legs sting like dozens of bees are crawling on them. Your lung's deep inhales burn your throat. Tears can no longer be contained, and pour out the sides of your eyes. 'Nama reaches out and holds your hand. While Shawn angerly rewraps your legs. You cry silently, hiccing frequently between sobs. But why was it so hard to scream? Instead of sucking it up and moving on... You've always sucked it up, is change just so easy now? That you can simply change when people tell you? You did expect things to be different, but not this different./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You passed out soon after Shawn rewrapped your bandages. 'Nama had blamed Shawn for you getting hurt, so he was trying his hardest to fix his mess. When you fell on the glass, your legs were covered in cuts, in total you had to get 124 stitches for both legs. You couldn't walk and the doctor said staying in bed was the best way to heal. You missed work too many times, even after spending your vacation days, and you were fired. Whatever cash you had in the bank, was spent on your medical bills. 'Nama did land a job as a waitress and Shaw was taking his job more serious too. But when they both came home, there was no end to the fighting. You couldn't sleep with their racket nor could you go and stop them. You wouldve thought they forgot about you if they didn't leave you a hot thermace, a cup noodle, and ibuprofen. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"What hurt most isnt being able to walk, losing your job, or 'Nama and Shawn's constant arguing; it hurt most when the doctor said you'd never be able to speak again. That when Shawn had hit your throat, he broke your vocal cords. And when your throat swelled, they were smashed into the walls of your throat. There were surgeries that could fix it, but each with high percentages of failure. And you were out of money./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"The silent aren't stupid, in fact they no the most. And are trusted with secrets only because... Who are they going to tell?/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"strong~One month later~/strong/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"strong(Your POV)/strong/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You awake on the living room couch, again. You were watching T.V. last night until you were too tired to climb the ladder to the attic. 'Nama's favorite quilt had been thrown over you body too. Ever since your accident 'Nama had grown to you, slowly becoming... well, like a proper Grandma. When she wasn't working she took care of you and your legs. However when she was at work, Shawn wasn't. It was his "free time" and you weren't even on his mind. Shawn got into trouble during theses times, but what could you do about it. He taunts you each time, saying,/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" "What? Ya gunna tattle on me?" then he'd laugh, like punching in your vocal cords was the best thing he ever did. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"He brought home beer by the gallons, and hid them in the fridge downstairs. There were cigarettes left smoking on the kitchen counter, like that was any good for your lungs. And then he'd bring home Tiana, you'd have to leave the house because... lets just say it was very unpleasant.. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Nama was humming in the kitchen, it was a bouncy tune. You recognize it as the theme to her favorite game show. You had folded the blanket, now carrying it in your arms. Standing behind 'Nama you click your tounge, quiet loudly too. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Oh my... [Name] not so loud, child. You'll make me wet myself." 'Nama jumped then turned to face you. You stare down at the blanket in your arms, thrusting it out to 'Nama, she took a step back. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Oh, um... Go put it on my bed. Close the door on you way out." you nod and shuffle of to 'Nama's bedroom. 'I have yet to learn any sign language, so I couldn't tell her thank you.'/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" Nobody knew what you were thinking, even if they asked you couldn't tell them... /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Nama's room was simple. Flowered walls of white and blue, the bed posts and dresser were painted white, and her sheets were blue. On the back of the door hung 'Nama's jacket. You set the quilt on her bed and look around, on the dresser was a small jewelry box and a notepad. You open the lid of the jewelry box, just to peep inside. The first thing your eyes are caught by, is a large opal drop pendant with silver binding and chain. 'Pretty... It defiantly catches the eye.' you close the lid quietly. The noteworthy yellow paper sits silently, ignored on the edge of the dresser. And some part of you felt... sympathy. 'I know what it feels like to be swept aside and ignored...' you reach into her jacket pocket to find a small blue sharpie. Sliding the notepad closer to yourself, you scribble down the words "Thank you 'Nama." and leave the room before you become more distracted. Closing the door on your way out./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"The pads of your feet thump down the hallway as you walk back to the kitchen, many times 'Nama's suggested you wear shoes that squeak when you walk. To make up for it, you tend to stomp around the house. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You sit at the counter atop a bar stool, then a plate slides across the table to land in front of you. Eggs, bacon, and toast? 'Nama giggles as you look up at her with questioning eyes./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""I didn't poison it today. Eat up, so you can get better and back to working. You should start lookin' up who's hirin'." 'Nama's sense of humor was questionable at times but her smile was always a treat. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Never stop smiling 'Nama.' you smile to yourself and happily devour the meal. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Well, I'm off to serve breakfast to the rest of the town. [Name], you take care of yourself, ya'hear?" You give a dignified nod, smiling at her. But she hesitates before chuckling to herself. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Come 'ere, kid." 'Nama stretches one arm out to you, you blink, confused./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""You gunna give me a hug or na?" Her scowl condenses a bit, but you do run into her arms, wrapping your arms around her torso. She pats you head and leaves for work. Not long after, Shawn babbles his way up the stairs. Not just him but Tiana too, she hid right under his arm. 'Did she stay the night? I would've known because I wouldn't be able to sleep.' You stare at them from the top of the stairs./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Heh heh, Whatcha doin' Mute? Did you wake up early to say bye-bye to the life line?" He snickers, Tiana too except hers is higher and she hics between breaths. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""I'd say we could all go out for lunch… hic… but I'm afraid the waiter won't know how to play charades." Tiana's high pitch voice was like nails on a chalkboard, and her breath smelt of alcohol, both of theirs did. Shawn curls inward to laugh, pulling Tiana's stick like form with him./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'They're so pathetic. I would push them down the stairs if I didn't have to live with them.' You narrow your eyes at them, mentally imagining how they would look tumbling to the stairwell. You turn you heel to leave, but it must heave been Shawn's turn to pick on you. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Must be nice, not havin' a job an' all. Do ya like it when people have to take care of ya? Heh heh, wonder what would happen if you didn't have nobody watchin' you." They laugh again, more mischievously. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Ya know ba'e, I think your right. When that ol' hag's out of the picture we'll own the joint. And we can just toss that sad mute-ass out on the pavement. HA, then how ya gunna live then, [Name], huh? How?" Tiana was not a smart woman, and 'Nama wasn't dying anytime soon. Let alone would she hand off the estate to a whore./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I hate your voice, woman.' You never once turn to look at them, so ready to rip her voice out that you would do it if she spoke again. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""[Name]! You best be evacuating the premises, cause we gunna be doin' something naughty!" Shawn laughs out loud, tilting his head back to make it echo of the ceiling. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You stand in your room with your pillow wrapped around you head. You tried using earbuds to drown out their drunk cries, but you found they were broken while trying. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Great, just great! Did they have to do this today?' You roll over and over. 'No more, I'm done!' Bearing the horrible sound and smell, you pack a backpack quick. Your laptop and its charger, your make up, and a water bottle. You didn't want to risk more of the smoke from downstairs seeping into your room. You open the only window in the attic, its about the size of a dog door and leads straight to the roof. Throwing your back pack through first, then stepping on your nightstand and wedging yourself through. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'FRESH AIR!' You inhale loudly, throwing on your back pack. 'Nama's house was normal compared to any other house, with a tree out front. The attic window was on the other side facing the yard. You walk around the house using quiet steps on the roof. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I hope my legs are game enough to do this…' you reach out and grab one branch of the tree, carefully climbing down, one foot after the other. About the middle of the tree you had to take a break to breath, your throat still not use to the new scratchy form of breathing. Once on the ground, you head towards the library./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You like the library, its quiet so nobody talks to you and you don't have to try to talk back. No one cares what you're doing there or why you stay as long as you do at times, so its just a place to feel like a normal nineteen year old. You sit in the corner of the library, updating all of you internet accounts, for hours. Until it was around the time 'Nama's shift would end. Then you walk home. It wasn't a quiet walk like before, you were scared to turn the corner and see 'Nama's car. or worse, see Shawn's. You weren't allowed to use the attic window as any kind of escape route, but you did anyways. The wind smelt of the sea and fresh ground coffee beans. You flick your head back and forth nervously. When your eye was captured by something quite recognizable. In the window of coffee shop, sat Shawn and Tiana. Not their usual scene to tell the truth, but they weren't drinking coffee either. They both held canteens, more than likely full of beer, and sat shuffling cards. What caught your eyes though, was on Tiana. 'Nama's opal pendant hung low on Tiana's chest. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'No way… Did 'Nama actually let them marry? /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Nama's been softening, but I wouldn't have ever thought she'd have let them marry!' 'Nama's pendant was given to her from G-Pop as and engagement gift. 'Nama had told Shawn years ago that he could give it to the woman he'd spend his life with. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'But 'Nama hates Tiana! Or thats what I thought…' You didn't want to think of a life were Shawn and Tiana were your guardians, it was horrible enough to be in the house when they were. You rip away your gaze and pick a new way to walk home. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"Little did you know that the sick woman in the window, could recognize your backpack from her perch./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You drag your feet home. If things weren't bad enough, your shins started stinging, again./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I'm old enough to live on my own now, all I need is now is a job. Save some cash, buy my own house, and never have to look at those drunk's faces again.' It sounded like a good plan in your head, but the only set back was… well you were a mute. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Mutes can't talk, mutes can't communicate, how am I going to get a job if I can't communicate!?" That one fact sent you back to the drawing board. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"When you got home, your legs hurt and you didn't feel like climbing the tree. But the window mop would be in the ladder, you wouldn't be able to open the trapdoor from downstairs. Sighing, you decided that fetching more ibuprofen and finding a different way to open the trapdoor was the way to go. You stumble inside to hear nothing. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I must be the only one home…' You take in the painkillers and some toast. Then look for some kind of tool you could use in place of the window mop. Behind 'Nama's door was a cane, G-Pops cane. You wouldn't look at the jewelry box, ashamed that 'Nama would allow such filthy hand to touch her most prized possession. Using G-Pop's old cane to pull the trapdoor open, you were having flashbacks of the old man's smile and how 'Nama's looked just like it. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'They were both so charming.' You put the cane behind the door again, then climb into your room. The attic window was left open your room was now aired out so there was no lingering smell of cigarettes, unlike the rest of the house. It was quiet, no arguing, no drunk babbles; it was too good to be true, and you fell asleep./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"You believe good things don't last, remember./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"There was a pounding from downstairs, somebody's knocks on the ceiling that woke you. You roll out bed, the painkillers helping you to walk and the knocking continues. You kick open the trap door to see 'Nama, behind her is Shawn with Tiana under his arm, she was crying./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""[Name]! How dare you take what is not yours!' 'Nama growled, she was giving you the glare she gives Shawn when they're arguing. You met her glare with a look of confusion, like a deer in the headlights. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""You sneaky thief! Are ya trying to get attention? And now that you can't talk you're going to such extremes!" Shawn also gave you the glare he gives during an argument. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""You're horrible, mute. Absolutely horrible!' Tiana sobs into Shawn's chest. You still stare confused. 'Nama never removed her gaze from you, she was trying to see if you would give any sign of guilt./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""These two came home tonight confessing to me that they want to marry, I was ready to allow them my blessing. But my pendant was gone." 'Nama still didn't remove her glare./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""You never liked us being together, you can't understand our love!" Tiana's pathetic cries were muffled but still audible./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Give it back ya little brat! We're together and theres nothing you can do about it!" Shawn reaches to grab your collar, but you take a step back up the ladder./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""[Name], where is my pendent?" 'Nama's growl stuns you, you can't break her gaze. Your arms shake, but somehow you manage to point at the weeping woman in Shawns arms. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Tiana has my pendent?" You nod, "[Name], what would make you say that?"/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""LIAR! Why would she have the pendent? You've been to only one home all day!" You glare at Shawn who's getting closer and closer to wringing out your neck./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""[Name], go get my pendent and give it to Shawn." 'Nama was pointing at your uncle. You open your mouth to speak, only to cough. You stare wide eyed at 'Nama and shrug your shoulders./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Its in the attic, isn't it!" Shawn pulls you to the floor, and starts climbing up the ladder without Tiana. 'Nama follow suit without giving you the glance of "are you okay." /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Heh, nice try, mute. But she can't read your mind, so we're runnin' the show, enjoy." Tiana whispers in your ear as you try to stand. She kicks your stomach, so you fall over again. You can scream, say ouch, grunt, or even whimper. All you can give to reply is a dusty heave. Tiana snickers as she climbs up the latter. You can hear paper ripping, and drawers clattering to the floor. The pain from Tiana's kick still say on your gut, but you had to move to save your room. You race up the stairs faster than anytime before, but it was too late. Shawn was ripping you posters off the columns, causing them to rip in half or thirds. Tiana was jerking out each drawer and dumping its contents out onto the floor. 'Nama simply watches over the mess they make, scanning for the opal pendent. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'NO NO NO! I dont have it!' The small blue sharpie you snagged from 'Nama's coat was still in your pocket. You reach for a scrap of poster and begin scribbling on the back of "Indiana Jones and the raiders of the lost ark." /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"In all capital lettering you write, IT WASN'T ME! You clap, clap, clap; getting louder and louder. They ignore you. Holding the poster scrap with one hand, you pound your other fist on the floor boards. Until 'Nama finally looks at you, she glares at you like you're a filthy little mouse, but scans her eyes over the poster. You flip it back down and continue writing, IT WAS ON TIANA'S NECK WHILE THEY WERE AT THE COFFEE SHOP! 'Nama stomped right up to you, snatching the poster scrap out of your hands. Shawn and Tiana were too busy ruining your room to notice your poster. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""What did you use to write this?" 'Nama's voice is cold, it pierces your heart. You had started trusting this woman, but she couldn't trust you. You pull out the blue sharpie, and put it in her hand. Her eyes widen, she drops the scrap of poster, and closes her eyes. The snarl on her lip remains unfaded as she exhales deeply./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""I want to believe you kid, but there's too much evidence against you. And you just closed the case on yourself." she clips the sharpie to her breast pocket. "[Name], you have one last chance. Where is my pendant? Answer me now."/div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Is she serious? 'Nama it wasnt me, please, they're framing me! 'NAMA! The want you gone too, they don't want me to stop them! Please!' You can't scream to her all you know, you can't tell her how you feel. You drag the poster scrap towards your limp body, and circle the second half with your finger. Tears fell onto the poster, you couldn't see anymore. So you just continue to tap the second sentence, while hiccuping silently. 'Nama stands over you, her shoes were just outside your vision. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Pathetic.." Tiana whispers to Shawn. They both chuckle. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Isn't that the same marker that wrote your little "Thank you" card with, [Name]?" Shawn wasn't even trying to hold in his laughter anymore. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'Thank you card? Does he mean...!...No way! They didn't, why would they!' your eyes are open so wide that you cant blink anymore. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Smooth move, leaving that calling card in her jewelry box, we knew it was you right away." Tiana whiney voice was as annoying as ever, even when she faked tears she could still giggle. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'They put my "Thank you" card... Inside the jewelry box, in place of the pendant...' You couldn't believe this, how could 'Nama believe this? It was such a low move, too good to be true... And she was buying all of it. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;""Well, [Name], how 'bout you sit up here 'til you can find my pendent, then pound on the floor and I'll have Shawn or Tiana come up and fetch it." 'Nama switched back to talking like a normal grandma, but she still glares at you with eyes of a hunter./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;"And as the lion has made her kill, the hyenas circle the carcass ready to pick at what remains with greedy smiles./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px; text-align: center;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"They leave you alone in your room, Shawn and Tiana snicker and they descend the ladder. 'Nama was the one to shut the trapdoor, you could hear her slide a wood beam between the handles locking it in place./div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'NO, No, no, no… 'Nama how could you believe them? Those slimy, sleazy, wasted, cons!' You wheeze between your teeth, hissing at the darkness. You thrash around the shreds of posters, clawing at the floorboards. Tears ran coldly off your face freezing the tips of your fingers. The lamp's shade was missing and the bulb cracked, but it still works. In the dim light, you dig throughout the pile of junk once stored in your drawers. There was a large felt tip sharpie, the big ones that are as thick as quarters. Your arms weren't yours tonight, you take the marker and on every scrap of poster left by Shawn, you wrote messily everything that happened sense you awoke this morning on the couch. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"You stare at the room covered in sharpie, pain of the last few hours marks all four walls and the floor. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'What have I done?' You arms are so tired, your legs are stinging again. Thunder rumbles the room, it snaps you back to your senses. You didn't have the pendent, you didn't have any excuse other than what was on the walls, and you didn't have any idea what to do now. Your mind still unsure of the wisest choice of actions, but you didn't want to be here. Lighting lit up your room through the small attic window, still left open. All you could think of was escape, and this was your ticket out. Your backpack still lay at the foot of your bed. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I can run for it, I can take my laptop and run for it.' Rain began to seep into the room. You look for something waterproof, you did live in the attic there had to be something. In the back of the room behind the headboard of your bed was an old shower curtain, you pull the contents of your bag and put them in the curtain. Wrapping them tightly then putting them back into your back pack. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'No more. They can't control me anymore.' You toss the back pack out the attic window, sliding your body out right after. You turn back to see the bedroom you'll leave behind, it looks more like an abandoned attic then ever before. You stand on what ever your legs will allow, slinging your bag onto your back. Out of the corner of your eye, now soaked with rain, sat the opal pendent. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'This is what became of my life, locked away over a necklace.' You pick up the pendent, sighing. It was more beautiful than the first time you set eyes on it. In the back of your mind G-Pop was giving you the high five of your life, he wouldn't like that skank to wear what his wife wore on her special day. You pocket the pendent smiling to yourself. /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;"'I'm not a useless mute, just watch me fight.' /div  
div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 14px;" /div 


	3. Keeping Secrets

_"Have you ever had to walk home in the rain before?" Walsh asks while standing beside you, holding out an umbrella. _

_"No, my parents gave me rides." Your face contorts at the mention of your parents. Closing your eyes, you breathe out slowly in order to not burst into tears. Walsh holds an open umbrella above your head, and begins walking._

_"Sorry, I didn't bring the car, I thought it'd cause a scene to have a police vehicle drive to the middle school and pick you up." his footsteps splash water on impact with the soaked street. you struggle to keep up with his pace._

_"I understand, you picked the good choice. The other kids don't need to know about…" You stop. You're trying to reassure yourself that this was all okay, but only Walsh thought you were as strong as you were letting out. At least he was treating you like another grown up instead of babying you through this._

_"You're right they don't need to know. But the school year is almost over, then we can find you a permanent place to call home." Walsh's voice rarely held sympathy, this wasn't one of those softhearted moments. He doesn't look down at you for longer than a few moments, then he stares at the horizon again. _

_Its like a faithful knight, told to watch a random peasant girl. _

_You weren't a prized jewel nor an important person; You weren't even giving him anything in return for his services, he was there because he was told to watch you. And he was protecting you as if a personal bodyguard._

_"I don't mind things this way. I'd rather be with you then any distant relative." You mutter as you readjust your backpack._

_"Legally I can't just adopt you, you know that."_

_"I know… Still doesn't mean I want to."_

_"You'll only have to wait five years until you can legally move out, and only three until you can legally get a job."_

_"I know. Heh, but whats with you and saying 'legally' so much today?" You flash Walsh a side glance and smirk. His eyes widen, then he breaks gaze to scratch his head._

_"Habit I guess, but all I said was true."_

_"Once a loyal cop, always a loyal cop. You are the best at what you do."_

_"Once a kiss-up, always a kiss-up. Thats what my fabulous detective skills tell me." Walsh pats your head, chuckling. Playful banter made this scenario less depressing. And you smile back at him, feeling the rain run off your face._

**(Your POV)**

The rain was heavy and pulls your hair, flattening it against the sides of your face. You are angry, no you are absolutely pissed. Lifting you hands towards the clouds, you feel powerful and in short terms… You feel bad-ass.

You scale the tree out front quickly, then take off running. You kick up mud and grass while sprinting across the lawn. The rain was cool, the air warm, and the smell of ocean was strongest mixed with the fresh rain.

It felt like the scene from a movie, where worlds rain at every sad moment. And damn did it feel great.

'Run, run, run! I'm finally leaving and theres no going back.' Your mind races almost as fast as your feet. Where were you running? Where would you go? No one could help you now, would you run only because of the rush in the moment to prove this a tantrum?

'I will change my life, things will be better.' Your pace slows. Tears mixed with the rain fall off your face, but you weren't choking up.

'I have to play big girl now, I'm all alone. Even when I though I was alone there was always someone I could turn to, even if it had to be my laptop.' This was the first time you were completely on your own. That sounds nicer than becoming the slave to drunks. So you run.

You shake the rain off your face as you adjust your backpack. Breathing heavily, you check your surroundings.

'This isn't near the house is it?' You scan the area, it was simply a suburb neighborhood. It looks similar to the area where 'Nama does her shopping.

'Im not far enough. If they call the police with missing photos of me claiming kidnap or something along those lines, then they'll find me if I stay in the area. I have to get to another town.'

"Last train will be arriving shortly." a woman's voice echoes robotically through the rain. It was the train station's announcer.

'Last train of the night… I should get on it. If I just ride until it stops then I can make it pretty far away from here.' With somewhat of plan, you kick the mud at your feet, sprinting towards the station. Each train was about fifteen minutes apart but become more spaced the later it gets.

'I have about twenty minutes, then.' Luckily you always had your wallet on your persona, carrying what little cash you had after you lost your job. You walk up to the ticket machine, inserting the cash in exchange for a one-way pass.

'One-way… I'm actually really scared now. At first this was exhilarating, I felt like I had no other choice. But now I feel like I did the wrong thing.' You shuffle your feet toward one of the benches, thinking to yourself how weird it would be to not have anyone in your life. Like, if you do this then theres no chance for you to live.

'No! I will fix my life. First, train. Then find some kind of home and job. Things will be fine.' You cross your fingers secretly. Hoping with all your heart that it really will… be okay.

With the hiss off wheels, the train smoothly rolls into the station. The white doors part to allow you entry, this is it.

'Alright lets do this.' You smirk stepping into the train, wondering how it would've looked like if you had flipped off the world behind you before getting on. The doors close and you stare out the window. The glass was so clean with veins of water from the pouring rain. It was pretty dramatic to be honest, but the seats weren't as pretty. You sit down in one of sections, there was one other person on the train, a man who looked like he was asleep under his jacket. Shoving your soaked back-pack under the bench, you copy his idea and lean your head against the chair. The train took off, jerking on the tracks. The man fell out of his seat, his face smashing into the floor. You sit up, looking over the bench to see what happened.

"Damn, I fell asleep again." He dusts himself off and throws on his jacket. He looks around the train frantically, as he packs his bag and readjusts his clothes. The train's announcer calls out the next stop and he cusses loudly. His nose began to bleed from his fall, when he turns towards to door. You can't help but stare at the bleeding man. You finally catch his eye. In surprise he stares, eyes wide. With his empty hand he clutches his nose. Acting as if you were a ghost, he runs from the train as soon as the doors open.

'What the heck?' The entire scenario made your eyebrows raise. You blow air between closed lips trying to laugh, but instead you sound like a horse. Causing you to laugh more, before finally succumbing to sleep.

There's knocking on the floor, like heavy foot steps. 'Nama's figure appears walking out from the darkness across your room. Her eyes are hazy and white. Her hair was greasy and brushed back with her fingers. The woman was tear stricken and wobbles as she walks.

"[Name], I'm sorry." her voice is sorrowful, more tears fall down her face. In her arms are the scraps of poster you left strewn on the floor.

"[Name], I'm so sorry, [Name], [Name], sorry... sorr-" she cries in the empty room, but she was cut off in her sobs. You open your mouth to scream at her, as thunder crashes. Such a mighty roar expressing all of your emotions at once. 'Nama just kept sobbing, wailing her apology into the wind.

"I was so blind! [Name], I was blind." you can no longer stand the noise. You turn your head away, feeling like you were underwater as you rip yourself away from her.

'Its all a dream, I'm on the train out of this hell, remember?' she screams louder, you turn back to her blood curdling cries. Her face contorts, and her body convulses. She falls to her knees twisting like a horror monster. Throwing the scraps of posters, and crawling towards you. You rip yourself away, begging to wake up.

You fall face first on the floor of the train car. You are scared by the impact and sit up too fast. Dizzy, you try to find the bench.

'What kind of dream was that?' you hold your head with one hand and use the other to help you stand. The train was still moving. The announcer speaks to whatever passengers are left, that the train will be arriving shortly.

'I'm getting off at the next stop, I'm don't think I'll sleep for awhile either.' You reach and grab your backpack, now dry it hung comfortably on your back. The train hisses to a halt, you step out the white doors into the night. It had stopped raining. The train leaves the station seconds later. You look around the station. Finding a clock, you walk up to it and check the time.

'10:30, most families are sleeping or will be asleep soon. I could hid in a shed or garage. Maybe camp on the backside of a store building.' your options are very limited. Finding an orphanage or police station would give away your identity to anyone looking for you. And living with the homeless wasn't something you want to jump to just yet.

'I'll wander until I find something.' You've always been bad with planning, this was no exception. Most teens spend more time planning for the zombie apocalypse then planning for what collage they want to go to. You were one of those kids. But you couldn't just go around pretending this was the apocalypse and bashing into peoples' houses.

You don't walk very far, in fact you may have just walked a block then turned the corner. Before coming across a small house. The tree out front looks the exact same as the one in front of 'Nama's house. There weren't any cars out front, nor were any lights on inside.

'This should suffice, I'll check the back for a shed or something.' You walk around the garage, making a mental note to check it next. There is a small yard, but it's unkept and covered with weeds and overgrown grass. In the corner is a shed, you walk carefully through to nasty plot of spiky weeds. Some of their thorns scratch your shins, causing you to remember the tingling feeling that was stinging in your legs.

Once you reach the shed however, it rocks in the gentle breeze and creaks like an old rocking chair. The lock was rusted off the hinges, sitting on the ground by the door.

'Good news is if I hid here they'll never find me.' You open the door, it's hinges scream and refuse to open anymore than a crack. Not big enough for you to squeeze into. All you can do is peek in, doing so you find it's piled to the brim with junk. Sofas, old computers, broken kitchen appliances; it wasn't anything salvageable anymore. Nor was there any space for anything else.

'What kind of person lives here? If anyone does live here.' its strangely quiet and you grow nervous.

Out of the corner of your gaze, hiding from the front of the house is a tiny window. On the roof is an attic window. You perk up, it is similar to 'Nama's house.

'I can use the tree out front as a ladder. It'll be just like home, but without two drunks and a granny.' you smile, wading towards the back entrance you just came from. Before you step out of the gate, you hear a car growling down the street. You freeze, hoping it'll drive past. The slow automobile grows louder, until head lights can be seen reflecting of the asphalt. It stops in front of the house, turning into the drive way.

'Dammit, hurry up and hid [Name]!' you command yourself to jump into the weeds and bury you and your bag. You lay flat against the dirt, thorns poke through your shirt to prickle your skin all over.

'Owchyies, this is nerve racking I can't calm my racing heart.' You lay in a crouch, watching for any sign of the driver. A door slams and a light flicks on in the house, shinning through on one the windows facing the yard. It illuminates the night around you, if you were to move they would be bound to see you. The owner's face could be barely be seen through it. It was a man, with brown hair. A messy collection of strands with many different shades of brown. You watch the top of his head move behind the window as he messes with something.

'Go away for a second, dude. Please go to the bathroom or something so I can get off these thorns.' You beg inwardly, watching his hair move around.

You twist one hand face up, blood oozes through tiny holes in your palms. Some thorns still hanging from your skin.

'Oh come on, I still have to climb that tree. Don't handicap me just yet.' You pull the thorns out with your teeth and spit them into the briars. You peer up at the window to see the man's mess of hair disappear deeper into the room. Waiting a few seconds before jumping up, you keep your eye on the window. You dive around the corner out of view from it, hugging the wall.

"Come on, pick-up!" An antsy voice was right above you. You look up to see an open window over your head. It's too high to been seen in or out of, but you can hear the man's voice load and clear.

"Come on, Russ. Russ, Russ, Russ, Russ! Hey man! Do you possibly have a teamspeak?"

'He's on a phone call, it also sounds like he's pacing. I have to wait until he leaves the room before I move. The weeds will make noise if I step on them.'

"My Skype is getting DDoS'ed, again... Ya I know it sucks..." his speech is getting quieter and more distant as he deepens the conversation.

"Ya, I managed to get the schedule up before... I know it's such a stupid video, that's what happens when Scott doesn't want to do it..." He laughs a light chuckle before you hear his footsteps click back down to the other room.

'He might pace back, I have to be fast but also careful. I don't want to get caught on my first night out.'

The weeds are kinder to you and grow smaller the closer you get to the back gate. You peek through the cracks to see if any other surprise awaits you, coast was clear. Swiftly you prance across the lawn, ignoring the stinging in your legs. Once you reach the tree you jump, both hands grabbing the lowest branch, you walk up the trunk and hook your left leg around the branch you were holding. Pulling yourself up with the "abs" you never had, then proceeding to the next branch. Repeating the process of completely emptying your lungs until you reach the roof. You breath heavy, the loudest noise you've made since you went mute. But you stop panting as the front door swings open, the owner stepping out. Quickly you rush to hide, seeking cover over the peak of the roof. You lay flat, hoping the tip of your back-pack won't give you away. Thankfully it was dark.

"I've got some time to figure it out, otherwise I can't do it at all. If that happens you be the host… Heh, I guess he could do it too…" The man walks to his car, parked out front rather than the garage. He pulls out armfuls of grocery bags, struggling to carry all of them while still talking on the phone.

"One sec, Russ." He removes the phone from his ear an puts it in his mouth, biting down on the devise as he walks to the door.

'What a strange guy. What is he doing?' You carefully remove your bag, creeping to the edge of the roof. Daringly, you peer over the edge to see him trying pathetically to open the door. With his phone is his mouth and both arms full of groceries, he tries to balance on one leg wedging the other foot under the door handle and pulling down. Doing so, his foot gets stuck. He hops inside, pulling his foot free and kicks the door close behind him.

'Whoa, he's quite the character. Who is this guy?' You blow air between your teeth, hissing out a makeshift laugh. You crawl back to your back-pack, it hid well in the dark so you really didn't have to worry about the owner seeing you or your bag.

'The window was right around the corner of this peak, I'll have to feel my way around once I get inside' you had been using the light from the street lamps to find your way through the weeds and to the shed. But there won't be any street lamps inside and you didn't want to alert the neighbors by leaving the attic window open.

'It looks like I just need to slide the glass after I remove the screen. The window clip is made of plastic and looks pretty old, I could bust it if I do this right.' You pull of the black tabs to remove the screen. You wedge the tips of your fingers into the edge where the window would open. You reach for a stick not far from you and use it to push the bottom of the window clip. It opens enough for you to pull the glass open.

'That was a lot easier than I expected…' You think of how conveniently that stick was laying next to the window, but soon forget all about it.

You toss in your bag, it drops onto a tower of cardboard boxes, piled up until it was level with the window. With what little light that snuck in, you see that most of the room is organized thisbway. You snake your way through the window and over the boxes until you can finally stand flat foot on the ground. The center of the room is the only area not covered with old bookshelfs, boxes, or dusty christmas decorations; which look like they haven't been used in years. There was a walkway only big enough for one person to squeeze through that leads to the trapdoor. There wasn't a ladder attached to the trapdoor like in your old room.

'Weird, thats what all of this place is to me, weird. Weird owner, weird yard, weird shed, even a weird tree; but now the attic… I don't know how this guy lives but I'm not so sure I can stay here.' The attic window creeks closed, as you're thinking. You stare at it intently finding it was finally pitch black outside, not to mention inside. It's warm in the attic; musky, but still warm. You sit down on the ground, finally feeling all the fatigue from the past few hours. The pain in your shins stinging, tingling with the lack of nerves but not quiet numb. Your hands throb where the briars met your flesh, and your chest is covered in thorns and stickers. Your hair was dry now, but after being rained on it droops; wind blown with slightly curled tips. Your eye aren't adjusting to the darkness and you feel sleepy. It had to be about 11pm, only two hours ago were you asleep in your own bed. Until...

You fumble around you pocket pulling out the pendent, the reason you left was because you were blamed for stealing it. Tiana could have easily thrown it on the roof, or at least made Shawn do it. Those cons so...! You become frustrated.

'They did that to me on purpose. They never liked nor cared for me, 'Nama was the only one who allowed me to stay. But now... Now I'm not in their way, and I don't care. That's right, I don't care. I don't...' You begin sobbing uncontrollably. You lie to yourself, you do care. You hate having to start over, again. This time Walsh couldn't guide you through this. You still had his number, even after all these years, but you don't believe he would have the same phone anymore. Even if he did, what would you say, you can't speak!

You beat yourself up inwardly, crying yourself to sleep. Your body curls into a ball, leaning into the cardboard boxes.

'I'll stay here tonight, then... then I'll move on.' Your eyes shut, locking in tears that squeeze out of your eye lids, balancing on your lashes. You listen to your heart beating quietly until you fall out of consciousness.

~•~•~

You shoot up, awaken brutally by a not-so-manly scream.

"NO! I freaking hate blue shells!"

'Was that the owner? Did he just scream "Blue shells"?' You're mind begins to think a million different things, overloading your mental capacity and causing your head to throb.

"Dammit SPOON! Get out of my way!" he shouts. It really was the owner, yelling at someone. But there was no one yelling back, no reply.

'Is this guy delusional? He's yelling at a spoon.'

"I hate this map, OH, look I fell off again!" He was growling at nothing, you want to see what he's doing but your freaking out about how you may have picked the worse house on the block.

'It's still pretty dark outside, what in the world is he howling at this late in the night?' No longer able to hold in your suspicions, you crawl towards the trapdoor gently pushing on it. It won't budge. You try hard, then even harder; you're practically standing on it for five minutes until you realize... it's a pull door.

'Not at all like my old room... I'm glad no one saw that.'

The trapdoor creaks when it try's to open, so to avoid his attention you only open it a crack to gaze around the floor below. You can hear the man talking with a normal volume, but he's no where to be seen. The hall is empty and the lights are off. You sit listening for a few minutes, hearing both the owner and a series of angry clicks.

"You guys are all horrible people! I just wanted to play video games, but you are all sick in the head!" He says in a tone like he was surprised.

'Funny, that's what I thought of him. But I also hear a faint voice reply. Is he in another phone call?' This was interesting, but you didn't want to stay here any longer than you had to. You shut the trapdoor, crawling back to the space in the middle of the attic. You pad around in search of your bag. Your hand bumps a small object, a Christmas ornament. It was round and plastic, it's paint peeling. You discard it, tossing it behind you then continuing to find your bag. There's a clunk noise from the ornament as it came in contact with the wall, there was a second crash, then a third. It was like dominos. One toy after another fell from their perfectly balanced positions. Some boxes tip and spill along with them, scattering old trinkets across the attic floor. There was a large deep creaking noise before one of the old bookshelfs fell. You jump, scooting away from the collapsed furniture. You back into your bag, stopping yourself from moving back anymore. As another deep groan fills your ears, the bookshelf beside its collapsed twin, tilts towards you...

And you can't run.

The bookshelf falls, crushing you underneath it's weight. Each row of shelfs digs into your flesh, separating your body into sections. The top shelf hangs deadly above you, your backpack taking the blow, holds the shelf up only an inch away from your throat.

'What! This wasn't suppose to happen!' You wiggle whatever you can, with clawing hands and banging your head on the floor to try to pull your arms free. You push up with your knees, causing the bookshelf to creak and dig deeper into you. The shelf held up by your bag was now level with your neck. You start to feel faint and panicky.

'H-help...' You start to hyperventilate, staring at the inside of the bookshelf hoping you can think of something that can save your life. And your eyes lock on a figment standing beside the shelf.

"You knew I'd be sad if you left, now you can't leave but I'll still be sad." 'Nama's voice was robotic and you could see the tips of her house slippers from under the bookcase. It grows heavier crushing your thighs and wrists; then putting pressure on the shelf forced against your throat. You hear the creaking of footsteps, imagining 'Nama walking circles around you. There was a deeper creaking and the bookshelf falls deeper into your body.

There was a light and all you could think was how you didn't want it to end here. Silence fills the attic as the light slides under the tiny crack between the shelf and the ground. By now the circulation to your brain was cut off, but you still swear you hear a voice.

"H-hair?" You can't move anything and feel like your head is going to pop off at any moment. The room around you becomes fuzzy as tears blind you, you're going to black out soon and that will be the end of this "starting-over" business.

'I n-need someone. I ca-can't do this alone.' There are more creaking foot steps. Still hallucinating, you fear 'Nama will crush you more under the bookcase or just watch as you die in a strange man's abandoned attic.

But neither options were at hand.

Fingers curl around the bookcase's edge, gently and nervously lifting it. You breath in sharply and shoot your arms up to throw the shelfs off you body. You roll over onto your knees staring at the floor, noticing a pair of shoes inches away from you. Following the legs they were attached to, you find the house's owner cowering away from you, startled and cussing. Right then, all the blood rushes to your head. Your eyes roll back, filling with black.

You were right about the blacking out, but what about that "starting-over" business, is that still over?

_**(A/N) I love being able to share my work with you guys. Thx Melons! BTW, wait until you see what I'm going to do with Cry :) 3-Gator**_


	4. Charades

_"This must be one big metaphor, huh. What am I suppose to learn from rereading Snow White this many times, Walsh?" You stare at the book he tosses into your lap. _

_"This is the third time today, I could probably recite the whole story to you." You grumble angrily._

_"Then do it, no summarizing I want it word for word." Walsh busies himself by cooking dinner. He tosses noodles into a pot of boiling water._

_"I- Whatever, I'll read it again."_

_"Out loud so I can hear it too."_

_"Why Walsh? What torture will you give me next?" You sigh, whining to the man. He laughs_

_"My cooking isn't that bad, [Name]. I'd read the book myself but you can't eat toast for every meal of everyday." he points a wooden spoon at you while he lectures. _

_"You're weird, Walsh. Fine I'll read it out loud." Giving up on arguing with the cop, you turn and open the book. You read smoothly, stumbling over a few words while trying to read faster. You even flip the book around to show Walsh the pictures. He snickers with a nostalgic smile. _

_It doesn't take long for you to finish the book and Walsh asks for you to set the table. He serves up his "Spaghetti a la Walsh" and you both eat in silence. Clinking silverware against the plates._

_"Pass the water, please." Walsh asks, pointing at the pitcher. You drop your fork, pouring water into his glass._

_"Thank you, [Name]." He nods and you nod back._

_"The reason I make you reread Snow white is so you can see your own metaphor, something you can use to help you through this trial in your life." Walsh suddenly brings up this strange topic, it catches you off guard. You stare at him, raising an eyebrow._

_"My own metaphor? Does that mean you got your own catchphrase from this story?" You tease him lightly; he only snorts in acknowledgement. _

_"Kind of, I was put through a hard time too. I was lucky to have someone to show me how to heal, she made me read Snow White over and over again until I finally found a theme I could use like a metaphor." He eats with a gentle smile curling on his lips._

_"She even taught me how to cook spaghetti." He finishes, stepping off his "soap-box". You giggle._

_"Was this 'she' your mom?" You bite your lips and hide behind your fork, snickering. He scoffs, tossing a noodle at you. It sticks in your hair. _

_"You sass, [Name]." Walsh shakes his head, a slight smile on his lips. _

_"But, What was the metaphor you found?" You manage to speak between giggles, hoping he would reveal whatever he's been wanting you to find. But the cop wins this one too._

_"Nice try. But you have to find one for yourself; its like a toothbrush, you can't use mine." He pulls the noodle out of your hair, smiling at you kindly. _

_This was one of those softhearted times where Walsh treats you like a little sister, probably the only one actually._

**(Your POV)**

Your head powerfully throbs, you vision was bordered red. You don't recognize your surroundings. By widening your eyes, you try to see the room more clearly.

'It burns.' Tears drip out your eyes and you close them forcefully. Sighing , you sit-up and grab your head with both heads, cradling it. Hissing through your teeth to express the pain.

"You're um... not dead." A voice sounding nervous and curious enters your ears. You freeze, opening your eyes behind your hands.

"Are you alright, kid?" It was a man's voice. Not just any man's but the voice of the owner. You remove your hands, letting them drop to your sides.

'I was caught. NO! This man will send me back, he'll turn me in and 'Nama will find me.' You stare at the figure across the room from you, sitting quietly on a bar stool in what seems to be the kitchen. Your head frozen in place, you flick your gaze down to your body. You are sitting on a small love-seat sofa that faces away from the kitchen. Then you flick you gaze towards the hall that was hiding in your peripheral vision. It was between you and the owner. Without thinking about you actions, you leap over the back of the couch and dash down the hall. With your head still pulsating with a giant headache, you lose your balance. Running into the wall and tumbling to the floor.

"No, wait! Come back!" The owner shouts, chasing after you. You sit up, seeing him through your puffy eyes. You crawl backwards until you crash into the wall at the end of the hall. A dead end.

'No, I need to leave. I need to run! Please legs, work!' You're consumed with fear, watching him approach you slowly. You use the wall to lift yourself up and you try to stand, but taking a step wasn't as simple. You fall… right into the owners arms, smashing your face into his chest.

"Whoa, um… hey i-its okay! I'm not going to hurt you!" He stutters, clearly baffled by your actions. But despite him trying to console you, you push away from him and fall on your butt. You stare up at the man before you, breathing heavy. He as well was panting, lifting his hands into the air as if you were aiming a gun at him.

He wears a simple pair of denim jean with black shoes and a long sleeve teal shirt without any kind of design on it. His brown hair lay unbrushed atop his head, a couple hairs spiking above the rest and he has a small goatee with stubble following his jawline. You look up frightfully into his eyes, but his gaze is blocked by a pair of shades, brimmed with a white frame. He's very young and attractive.

"Please, don't cry. I-I'm sorry I scared you." He kneels down to be more level with your stare. You lift your hand to touch your face, brushing against a tear. Looking down at your wet fingers, finally blinking for the first time since waking up. You hiss, clutching your burning eyes.

"Are you in pain?" He asks and you nod.

"Can I... see your eyes?" He keeps his distance, speaking softly. You pull your hands away, slowly. Opening your eyes again is a much slower process. But finally you stare unblinking towards the dark shades in front of you.

"Damn… You popped a blood vessel. What in world happened to you? And why were you in my attic?" His stare becomes more intense. You open and close your mouth like a fish; but before remembering how you can't speak, you cough hard and close your eyes. The man's footsteps grow distant, but return seconds later. And you open your eyes.

"Here." He holds out a glass of water to you. Unsure, you just stare at him. The owner sighs and pulls off his shades, revealing a pair of glassy blue eyes full of care and worry.

'This man… is being kind to someone who broke into his house. Who is this guy? Can I trust him?' You look at the glass with wanting eyes, but you're still nervous. He smiles curiously, stretching it out to you again.

"I'm trying to be as helpful as I can, take it. Then answer my questions." He speaks gently, his voice soothing your nerves. You take the water sipping it at first before tilting the whole glass back and chugging it. You gasp for breath holding the glass out to him. Taking it in hand, he questions quietly.

"Okay, first I want to know what you were doing in my attic." He puts his shades back over his eyes, still speaking with a calm tone. You nod and open your mouth again. You cough, not because your throat hurt but because you were trying to figure out a way to communicate with the man.

"Do you need another drink?" He tilts his head watching you struggle to speak. You shake you head, still thinking. An idea forms and your eyes open wide. Holding up one finger to signal "one sec," you pull out a gigantic sharpie from your pocket. It was the one you used to write all over your room before you left. Staring at it sadly, you pop off the lid and lift up your sleeve. Writing in all caps the phrase,

**"I AM A MUTE."**

You stare at the owner with a stone like gaze, holding out your arm to show him what you wrote and his eyebrows raise quickly.

"A mute? So... you can't speak, can you?" you shake your head at his question.

"Well thats a problem. I'm pretty good a charades, try that." You give him a look of question. Before deciding to try it. You start by tapping your forehead with your fingers then spinning your head in a small circle. Trying to explain to him about your headache.

"You're dizzy? You're head hurts?" You nod and try to spin your finger to show he's close.

"You were brain washed and are suffering from amnesia?" He tilts his head slightly; you're the one to raise your eyebrow this time.

'Is he serious? Amnesia?' You shake your head slowly.

"Sorry, of course that's not what happen. Heh, do you have a headache?" He voices kindly, but any sign of excitement leaves his profile.

"I've popped a blood vessel before, too. The headaches get pretty harsh. Are you okay if I give you ibuprofen? I'm no doctor but it helped me." He speaks as he stands, holding out a hand to help you stand. You don't dare to reach out and take his hand, crushing yourself against the wall. He pulls his hand away to scratch the back of his head. Smooth move.

"Well I-uh-I'll be right back. Getting ibuprofen..." He mutters to himself as he walks back to the kitchen.

'Does he not comprehend the fact I'm a run-away?' you recoil into a ball clutching your head, again.

"I'm going out on a limb here. But I doubt you've had anything to eat for a while either." He peeks around the corner, staring at you through the shades. You shake your head. He exhales a small sigh.

"Can you walk?" He stands at the other end of the hall, watching you with his hands in his pockets. Pressing on wall behind you, you move to kneel on the floor. While trying to stand and prove you weren't a weakling to both yourself and the owner, you successfully stand by using the wall as support. He just watches you to see what you'll do. You take a step and lean against the wall. It made your legs and the cuts on your palms sting. You make it a few feet before you vision blurs. Instead of trying to make it dizzily, you close your eyes and focus on the wall.

'I don't know how much farther I'm suppose to go. I'll just have to keep following the wall unti-' You run into the arch's frame, your face smashing hard into the small wall. The owner erupts into a fit of giggles tilting his head back as you clutch your nose. Hot liquid runs into your hands and you try hard to contain the nosebleed while still insanely dizzy.

"Oh that was hilarious, sorry for... Oh um, now you're bleeding. Uh! This way." The owner doesn't ask for your permission or any kind of objection as he puts his arm around your shoulder, guiding you to an open door in the hallway. A bathroom.

He sits you on the toilet's lid, handing you wads of toilet paper to wipe up the blood. You try to do so, but keep getting more and more light headed.

'I need to lay down, I already have enough blood pressure in my head.' You cover the paper wads over your nose and stand to get off the lid then lay on the floor. But the man stops you.

"Whoa, wait you have to sit down." He tries pushing you back down, but you slap his hands away and hold up one finger, telling him to wait. You lower yourself and lie on your back in the middle of the floor. Breathing slow and soft, you tilt your head back to force the blood down.

'Finally, I was able to fix one of my problems!' The floor felt so relaxing, you feet you might fall asleep here.

"Seems you know what your doing. You're not anemic too, are you?' You don't dare move your cranium, but lift one hand to mimic a head shaking "No."

"This is going to be the biggest game of Twenty Questions." The owner sighs, staring at your bloody face.

"But what else can we do, right? So, do you live in the area?" He wants answers and you've been finding all sorts of ways to avoid his questions.

'I don't know how long I was on the train, an hour maybe. An hour at train speed can get you pretty far, but I don't com side that place my home anymore… So no I don't live in the area." You shake your fist from side to side.

"No? Okay, um… Were you living in my attic for awhile? He half growls, choking on the word "living." But changes his tone back to soft for the rest of his question.

'I only took a half an hour nap, if that! No I wasn't living in your attic.' You shake your hand again. He runs his hand through his hair, muttering the next question.

"Do you have an family, friends or neighbors I can call to pick you up?" You don't move, your hand suspends between you and the man whom towers above you.

'…I'm alone…' Sighing as you shake your hand, clenching it tightly while doing so. He drops his brow in deep thought, reaching his hand up to scratch his beard.

"Well then, have you been wandering for a long time? Your clothes are pretty wreaked." He waves his hand, gesturing to your jeans.

'I can't say that I ran away not even 24 hours ago. If I say yes he might be kind enough to let me leave without calling the cops, I'm surprised he hasn't already.' You nod your fist, waving it up and down, slow and dramatically.

"So, you're a homeless girl without a family, without a voice, whose just looking for a place to hid from the rain, right?" You won't say he hits the nail on the head, but he definitely pierces your heart; because tears well up in your eyes as you nod your fist at the man.

"And for awhile too it seems. Well if you can walk to the kitchen I'll whip up some lunch while you finish my questions. He stands in the door way clearly expecting you to stand on your own.

'He really must be angry about me breaking into his house. That, or he's testing the strength of my story by seeing if I really have the ability to suck it up and move on. Most likely something along those lines.' You sit up and toss the tissues into the trash. Inhaling deep before holding in your breath and moving to stand on your feet. Using the sink as a crutch, exhaling slowly once on your two legs. There was a small mirror hanging on the wall above the sink, you jump back from the sink scared by your own reflection. A girl stares back at you with a similar look of fright, her bloodily face and demonic eyes glaze with tears. Stepping closer to the mirror, you touch your face under your right eye. Where your eye was once white is now a brilliant bright red, making your eyes greener than usual. Under your nose is crusty with dry blood, your mouth too. You whistle impressed by the monster you became overnight.

"Do you want to get cleaned-up first?" The man leans on the door frame watching you carefully. You look him in the eyes, nodding. Reaching for the toilet paper then turning on the water you wipe the blood off your chin and cheeks. The holes in your hands from the thorns, speckle scabs just waiting to fall off. You finish the job for them, washing the blood down the drain. The owner stands quietly, waiting for you to finish up. You stare down at your clothes, they have barbs and grass still covering them; blood dry on your shins.

'Those are going to be a pain to was out… I should make sure the cuts on my legs aren't fusing with the denim. That'll be the worse way to wax.' You take the wet wads of toilet paper and sit down on the lid of the toilet. Rolling up your pant leg to reveal the stitches from the glass incident. Gently dabbing away the blood pooling after ripping away your pants.

"What are those?" The man's stance tightens at the sight of your leg, even more so when he sees the other leg has a matching set. You still take care of your wounds as he watches you.

'He's going to want to know everything now… If I twist my words right I could pull at his heart strings, he might feel sorry enough for me to stay for a bit.' You look up at the man after mopping up your legs and filling the trash can with bloody tissues. The sink too has blood stains. You take some soap along with the tissues and scrub the floor and sink free of red blotches.

"Why are you cleaning my floor?" He tilts his head to the side, curious with your actions. You look up and raise an eyebrow, shrugging slowly as if this were entirely natural.

'Aren't I suppost to clean up any mess I make. I'm just trying to be a good house guest… no nevermind I'm not a guest.' You throw away the wet toilet paper into the trash and finally stand somewhat presentable. Through his shades you can barely see the glint of his eyes motion up and down as he examines your face for any traces of blood.

"Nice, you didn't miss any. Lets go." He steps out of the doorway, allowing you to go first.

As if you were a prisoner who couldn't be left alone without causing trouble, he keeps his eyes on you while hiding behind his shades.

The owner motions for you to sit on the barstool while he pokes through the fridge, pulling out small vegetables.

"I still want you to answer all my questions, alright?" You nod, waiting patiently.

"Um… Do you have a plan of what you're doing? I mean from here on out." He pulls out a kettle and fills it with water, putting it on the stove to boil. He turns, leaning on the counter in front of you. You decide to be truthful with him holding up your hand to show your pointer finger an inch above your thumb, signaling "a little bit."

"Is that a little as in a couple steps planned out or you're going with what feels right?" He smirks lightly, raising an eyebrow. You try to hide behind your hair, guiltily holding up two fingers. He tries giggling as he speaks.

"The second one. Man, now I kind of understand why you picked my place, spur of the moment."

'It was the tree out front that caught my attention, otherwise I would have run right past.' You think of how neither of you really understand why you stayed, before he speaks up sighing slightly.

"Now is where my Charade skills are tested. How did you get into my house and when?"

'I used the tree as a ladder, climbed in the attic window, and napped for about a half hour. I got off the train at 10:30 last night, along with walking I must have got here around 10:45-11ish. But how do I act that out?' You sit confused, staring at your hands. You fail horribly trying to draw the outline of a tree in the air with your fingers.

"A bee? No, a flower? Um… a cloud? Rain cloud?" He's trying too hard. You shake your head, growing frustrated.

'A tree, I need to show me climbing a tree.' You're hit with inspiration, reaching for the pile of vegetables the owner pulled out. Grabbing a head of broccoli, you make your two fingers walk up the side of it and hop off the top to suspend in mid air.

"You climbed a tree to get on my roof?" His eyes widen enormously and his jaw drops. You nod and hold up one finger to tell him you're not done yet. Drawing a square in the air with your finger, you mimic the motion of opening a window.

"You climbed a tree to get on my roof then opened a window into my attic?" You clap lightly in applause, but stare at the floor after seeing the surprise on his face.

"Well, I didn't expect that would ever be a problem. Well then! Next question, what happen to your legs?"

'Called it.' You point at the dishes pilling up in the sink, moving your hands as if you were pushing them off the counter. You move your arms to angle at the ground then mimic an explosion with your hands, blowing air out of your teeth to make the sound of slow motion destruction.

"Broken plate shards on the floor?" His brow looks disturbed but you just nod and continue. Standing off the barstool, you draw a broom in the air and pretend to sweep his floor. You lay your imaginary broom on the floor in front of you, then stand two of your fingers on the counter. You make your fingers run and trip, rolling into your other hand which lay flat on surface of the counter. The man points at the hand you lay flat.

"Is that suppose to be the plate shards?" He gulps lightly, with his voice slightly shaking. You give a half smile and nod gently.

"Thats um… Damn-" He stops himself and just turns his back to you, facing the boiling kettle. You sit back on the stool, watching him awkwardly toss a carrot in his hands.

"It didn't happen that long ago, then. Because the stitches are still there. How in the world did you climb a tree with wounds like that?" He flips around to stare at your face. You shrug your shoulders, mouthing the word "carefully." He raises an eyebrow, nodding.

"Carefully, huh? Thats… pretty impressive kid. H-how old are you?" You hold up all of your fingers then put them all down and hold up only nine of them. Trying to show nineteen.

"You're only ten years old?!" He gasps. You shake your head violently, getting a bit of whiplash with it.

"Oh, that'd be very bad if you were ten. Um… twenty?" You point your finger down, telling him it was less than that.

"Fifteen?" He raises his brow and you sigh. You look around for something to write on, finding nothing but a small pen to write with. You tap on the counter and draw a rectangle with your finger, taking the pen and pretend to write on its surface.

"You want something to write on. Hold on I'll see if I can find something." He walks out of the room, leaving a carrot on the cutting board. It begins to roll off slowly, taking a knife with it. You jump off the stool and race to stop them from falling. You catch the carrot and dodge the knife by jumping out of the way. Picking up the knife, you see the pile of broccoli and carrots left uncut.

'This guy's making lunch for me and him. I'll chop these while he's looking for paper I can write on.' Taking the knife in your hand, you slice the carrot into wheels. Cutting was a breeze, you complete his task quickly as you hear him open a closet, dig around a bit and close it. You return to the barstool before he walks back into the kitchen.

"Here, I found a notepad but its almost out of paper. I don't know why I didn't think of this first."

'Because that'd ruin the drama.' You think, taking the paper out of his hands and writing "nineteen" on the top of the page. He reads it, nodding. Muttering to himself as he walks back to the cutting board.

"Did you chop these? Or did I do it and just forget I did?" You snicker writing down, "I was just trying not to be completely useless."

"Thanks, kid. And hey, now the water's done." He pulls the kettle off the stove and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard, pouring the boiling liquid into them. He breaks a bag of instant noodles into each mug, dropping the chopped carrots and broccoli in as well.

The owner slides a mug of ramen noodles in front of you and walks around to sit next to you. With the note pad sitting between you both, he continues with his questions.

"I never asked you your name, what do people call you?" He calmly eats his noodles, waiting for you to inscribe your answer into the paper.

"[Name], thats what I'm known by."

"[Name], it's got a nice ring to it." He rolls your name across his tongue, so smoothly you hardly think he's speaking to you.

"My name is Ryan, but only my family calls my that. Most people call me Cry, don't ask for the history on that nickname or you'll be here forever." You take sometime to admire his lips as he finishes his sentence, flipping your head back to your mug when he turns to ask another question.

"You don't have any where to go nor do you have any plan for what to do next. You have amazing Charade skills but no other way to communicate. You have huge gash wounds on your legs and a popped blood vessel. So, [Name], I have some bandages, ibuprofen, clean clothes, popcorn, and a movie I haven't watched yet; I'll give you the choice to stay the night here, but you don't have to." You stare with wide eyes at his offer, quickly grabbing the pen and notepad.

"But I broke in, aren't you furious with me? I'm a broken, dirty, lost, bloody, crook! You don't have any reason to house this mute in your home-" Your writing becomes sloppy, the lines stop connecting in places as you hastily scribble down you thoughts. Tears form on your eyes as the emotions take over. Cry reads the paper, a look of surprise crossing his face, seeing the tears speckle the page. You tighten your fists, knuckles turning white. You try to conceal how hard this was to take by biting the back of your lip. Sucking in the tears, you try to stop the flow of water from pouring off your face. Cry puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to slow your shaking.

"There's more to the story, isn't there? You don't have to explain everything, unless I'm involved...then I want to know." He stares at you intently. Through his shades, you see light flicker in his eyes.

'He's being honest. Can I trust Cry? He seems to understand me better than 'Nama or Shawn ever did and I've only known him for less than an hour.' You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand. Then you take the pen ready to write again.

"Can I stay until I get a job? Then I'll leave, I promise."

"I live alone, just me and my cat. So you can stay as long as you know how to vacuum or do dishes... without pushing them to the floor. Sound okay?" He pulls his hand away as you write in big letters on the notepad.

"Thank you, Cry!" Tears push out your eyes again, happy ones. He laughs at how quickly you nod your head and hiccup gratefully.

"Awe, don't cry, friend... thats adorable. Alright, couch is all yours; but first popcorn and that movie I mentioned earlier." Cry pushes himself off the barstool and makes his way over to the television.

"Catch." Cry throws a bag of un-popped popcorn at you. You duck, it lands on the other side of the counter and spins on the floor.

"Nice dodge. Anyways, the microwave is by the sink. Don't burn it." He begins messing with the DVD player, muttering to himself. You place the bag inside the microwave, watching it spin on the glass tray. It jumps lightly as it pops, convulsing in the heat. It beeps after 2 minutes, steaming in your hands as you remove it. Walking toward the couch where Cry sits, you rip the top off the bag letting the steam waft around your face and into your nose.

'Ah, that smells good. I don't know if I've ate popcorn while watching a movie since... my parents...' You stare sadly into the bag then place it on Cry's lap. He thanks you and continues to set up the movie.

'I still think he's weird... Nice, but still weird.' He motions for you to sit and you take the seat next to him but far enough away that he has space, awkwardly tapping your feet.

~•~•~

The movie was halfway over when Cry notices [Name]'s sleeping form, her head leaning against the back of the couch. Her breath was unsteady, constantly rumbling with every exhale. He stares quietly around the room.

"This is weird, a girl shows up at my house needing help and of course I'm too nice to say no." He mutters to himself, remembering the scene when [Name] was trapped under the bookshelf. He could only see her hair move as she had struggled to break free.

"You looked just like something out of a horror movie, it scared me." Cry speaks to her as she lay limp and sleepy.

"It seriously makes me wonder what happened before you came here?" He turns the movie off and tries to rotate [Name] to lay across the couch then he throws a blanket over her. She hisses, placing a hand on his hand. He freezes, waiting to see what she'll do. Her grip tightens around his fingers, and she sobs, again.

"You keep crying. You can't tell me why, you can't tell me how, and you don't make any noise either. I feel like if I take my eyes off you, you'll break into tears and I'll have no warning." Cry pries his hand free, then gently caresses [Name]'s hair until she stops weeping.

"Its okay, kid. You not alone anymore."

_**(A/N) Half way through this chapter, I realized it was A LOT of Cry talking to himself. I laughed and kept writing. **_

___**Do you guys like my really long chapters? I read plenty of fanfic with crazy short chapters and I will admit, not as fun as getting a bellyful of a good story. BTW! I drew the picture of how Cry is presented in this story, heres the link to the original: **_

_** art/Cry-Gator-s-version-462809191?ga_submit_new=10%253A1403491621**_

_**3-Gator**_


	5. No Communication

_"Where's the target?" Walsh speaks into his radio. Glancing out the windows of his car waiting for any kind of movement._

_"Target is under the bridge, He might follow the canal to get away." A woman speaks from the other end of the radio, her voice a whisper. Walsh exits the car, pushing an earbud into his ear and connecting it into the radio. Gun in hand he walks towards the bridge, carefully muffling his foot steps. _

_"Target only knows you're here, don't remain too silent. I'll sneak up from behind and cuff him." The woman's whispers into Walsh's earbud. He heavies his footfalls and holds his gun even lower, peering over the railing near the bridge. Walsh could see the feet of the man, put kept walking as if he didn't. The female officer sneaks down the ladder into the canal, water up to her shins. As Walsh keeps walking parallel with the rail, the target backs away slowly and slips from Walsh's vision. The women steps with the same pace as the man, whose still heavily focused on Walsh. She pulls out her cuffs slapping one on the mans wrist, pulling the other one behind his back. _

_"Sir you are under arrest for manslaughter, resisting arrest twice, and violence against an officer." She speaks angrily and victorious. But the man does not seem phased at all, in fact he smiles. He reverse kicks the side of the woman's face. She tumbles to the ground, rolling in the canals water._

_"Oi!" Walsh jumps the railing and lands on his feet, aiming the gun at the target. The man laughs, twisting his arm until it dislocates. He grunts then flips both arms over his head, then pushes his arm into place. Walsh stares wide eyed at the man, his huge arms easily adjust back into their original position ._

_"How about we raise my bounty." The man speaks as he punches Walsh in the face, causing him to spin and drop the gun. The man trudges towards the female officer as she tries standing up. He grabs her neck, pushing her head under the water. She fails her legs and claws at the man's burly arms. _

_"Get your hands off of her!" Walsh screams, punching the man in the face. He barely flinches then headbutts Walsh's stomach. Walsh sputters, his foot bumping the gun he dropped. The woman's flailing slows and her arms fall limp into the water. Walsh reaches into the murky canal, pulling out the gun and aiming it at the man. He pulls the trigger and the mans screams letting go of the female officer. His arm drips blood where the bullet hit him. Walsh runs over to his fellow officer and stands defensively over her body. Reaching for his radio._

_"We need that back up, fast." He aims his gun at the burly man, who is still crouching in pain. A car turns the corner and two more officers jump out of the vehicle. The target jumps up without warning and runs for the ladder, climbing with only one hand until the other officers kick him back into the canal. They scale the wall and point their guns at him. With three barrels aiming at him, the man stands up and flashes his cuffs. Walsh nods at the other officers and they both take one of his arms. _

_"Take him to your vehicle. I've got her." _

_"Yes sir!" They push the man up the ladder and into the car. The female officer coughs behind Walsh, sputtering the water out of her lungs. Walsh holsters his gun, reaching down to pick up his fellow cop._

_"Morris!" He shouts at her, causing her to open her eyes. _

_"Shut-up, Walsh; And put me down I'm not a baby. Where's the target?" Morris barks at Walsh. _

_"Back-up came and got him. Now guess what, I can finally call that case closed." _

_"You mean the one where you had to babysit that kid? Was he the last killer?" _

_"Yes he was the last, but she's not a kid anymore. How many years ago was it… six?"_

_"How am I suppose to know? I was assigned to be your partner only a year ago." Morris steps up the ladder, her feet scale the rungs smoothly. Walsh follows suit, carefully stepping on the rusty metal bars. _

_"I should call up her family and tell them all people involved with the murders are no longer on the streets." _

_"Why? You aren't still chummy with that girl, are you?" Morris shoots an accusing glare at Walsh, but he just laughs it off._

_"No, Morris. Its nothing personal, just protocol." He pats her shoulder, walking to the car._

_"Yeah right… you only took the mission because you wanted her to find closure." Morris mutters to herself before sighing and following Walsh to the car._

**(Your POV)**

You awake to the sound of meowing, soft and distant. You open your eyes to see a ball of grayish brown fur sitting on the coffee table only an arm's length away. It was a cat with stripes on its back and head. The cat meows again louder and more demanding, it reminds you of an angry police officer asking you what you doing in a no trespassing zone.

'That is not a happy cat, it looks like its scared or curious.' You just stare at it and it just stares at you. The tip of its tail flicks irritably. You reach an arm out, letting the cat sniff the back of your hand. It does start looking a little less afraid of you, then it rubs it head against your arm. You pull your arm back to fix your insane bed-head and the cat yowls for you to keep petting it.

"I know A.K. I'll feed you." Cry spoke from the hallway, emerging with a bad bed-head. His eyes landing on the cat, sitting on the coffee table. He picks up an empty cat bowl, dumping dry kibble into it then putting it back on the floor. The cat jumps off the table and runs towards the dish. You go back to fixing your hair, brushing it out with your fingers and flipping it around.

"Morning to you too, [Name]. Sorry if A.K. woke you up, she does that a lot." Cry runs a hand through his hair, smiling at you. You look at his blue eyes, shaking your head and smiling. trying to reassure him that its completely fine.

"Okay then, I'll shower quick and then the bathroom is all yours to get cleaned up." You nod and he does too. He waves his hand towards the fridge.

"Eat anything that still looks edible. I'll be back in a bit." Cry leaves the room, turning into the bathroom.

'He didn't look me in the eye even once. He must really be shy.' You give up on your hair, dropping both arms to your sides. A.K. happily devours her food, just watching her enjoying it made your stomach growl loudly.

'Am I really so hungry that cat kibble makes my mouth water?!" You pull the blanket off of your body, not questioning how you got it; it wasn't there when you fell asleep. The room was colder then expected, so you wrap yourself up with the blanket. Refusing to peel it off while you scan the fridge.

'He's got milk and eggs… oh and oranges. Does he have pancake mix?' You dig though the cabinets unable to find pre-made pancake mix nor any baking-soda.

'That kills that idea. What else can I make?' You remember a dish Walsh made for you when he was your mentor.

'Bulls-eye toast!' You slam your fist into your other hand as a light bulb went off in your head. You hear the shower water turn on, starting your timer. Opening the fridge, you pull out four eggs and the oranges. You snag the bread off the top of the fridge and a cup from the cabinet, placing them all on the counter then grabbing a pan from under the stove. Surprisingly you found all the things you need.

'Perfect, now how do I work his stove?' You fiddle with the dials until the burner you want lights up. Placing the pan on the burner, your arms tangle themselves up in the blanket. You tie two of the corners around your neck like a cape then continue to cook. You pull out four pieces of bread, laying them all down on the counter next to one another. Placing the brim of the cup in the middle of the bread, cutting a hole in the center of each slice. You take one piece and put it in the pan, cracking an egg into the hole in the center. Watching it bubble, you search for something to flip the toast. You place the finished toast on a plate.

'This brings back memories of when Walsh tried to teach me how to make these, I failed so many times, but he'd eat it anyways. I don't think Cry will want to eat burned toast though.' While lost in your thoughts you don't notice the shower stop hissing. Nor do you hear the footsteps.

"Those look tasty-" Cry speaks inches away from your face. You recoil your arms, elbowing him in the process. He grunts in pain as you turn around and try to apologize as best you could, bowing like a japanese school girl who is thoroughly embarrassed.

"It's not your fault, I shouldn't have snuck up on you." He brushes it off and adjusts his shades, but you can see he's still in pain as he stands up straight to hide it.

"What are you cooking?" He asks handing you a familiar notepad and pen. You write down "Bulls-eye toast" and turn to flip the forth slice, sliding onto a plate like a professional chef. You put an orange onto each plate and pour two glasses of water, putting them in front of the bar stools. Cry takes the same seat he used yesterday.

"Will we need forks?" He asks as he sits down. You flush a bit as you write on the notepad.

"I couldn't find them…" Cry tilts he head back and laughs, restraining from falling out of his chair.

"I'll get them, one second little chef." He reaches over the counter to a drawer right across from his seat, pulling out two forks and putting one on each plate.

You both dig into the toast. Cry compliments your cooking, with yolk bleeding onto his chin. You banter back and forth with him, pointing at the mess on his face. He tries to get it off but misses several times then he sits, laughing. You put your hands up to stop him then snag a paper-towel, holding his chin still while you wipe the yolk off his face. He flushes a light pink just under his glasses, and you see the light in his eyes flick away from you.

"Um… Sorry I'm a bit of a dork, I'm not used to having people around often." He looks down at A.K. whose meowing for attention.

'He is a bit weird, is he crazy shy? That would explain the shades.' You turn to the notepad and scribble down your question. He turns a little more pink, replying with a quiet "yes." You hiss between your teeth, smiling. He takes the plates a puts them in the sink.

"So um… I have to go work. I work from home so I'll just be in the other room, bathroom's all yours to get changed and stuff. I've got some old clothes you can use." He points at a pair of folded basketball shorts and a hoodie sitting on the back of the couch. He must have brought them out before he snuck-up on you. You clap your hands in front of yourself, mouthing "thank you." He scratches the back of his neck, muttering "no problem" under his breath. You jump off the stool and walk to the bathroom, taking the clothes with you. But seeing the shower curtain's pattern reminds you of the curtain you used to wrap-up your laptop.

'My back-pack!' You place the hoodie and shorts on the bathroom counter, rushing out of the door. You run right smack into Cry who is also turning the corner. You step back and wave to get his attention, then holding up one finger, you dash past him to the notepad and pen.

"Did you find a backpack when you found me?" You write fast, holding it up for him to see.

"A backpack? Where was it?"

"It was holding up the bookcase I was under."

"Yea, I did see it. It was soaking wet so I took it outside." His answer causes you to look around for the front door. He puts his hands up to calm you down.

"Whoa, friend! It should be dry now lets just go get it, okay." You nod at him then he turns halfway down the hall and through another archway, the front door was right here the whole time! Mentally face palming yourself, you follow him outside to the porch. Your bag lay sunbathing on the concrete. Rushing towards it, you pick it up and rummage through the contents; your laptop and its charger were still both in good condition thanks to the waterproof curtain. Your make-up and water bottle as well were just as you had left them. You breath out a sigh of relief, exhaling deeply. Clutching the bag to your chest, you hear Cry laughing a slight chuckle and sigh with "Awwwe."

You both walk inside and you go to take your shower. Letting the water pour over your body, you think about 'Nama, that horrifying dream, the pendent in the pocket of your pants, and you're curious if she's looking for you. Cry is very kind, too kind. Is it even a good idea to stay in one place? Should you move on soon?

'Things are nice right now. I don't want to spill the beans about me being a run-away to him, not yet at least.' You think while washing out your hair.

'What would he think of me then? Hmm… I wonder whats happened to Walsh and even Shawn. I don't give a damn about Tiana though.' You try not to think to hard and risk crying, while you dry off; though that won't be a problem with water still dripping off your face. The hoodie is a plain gray and the basketball shorts are black with a set of initials on the leg, "S.J." You threw them on with out complaining, in fact, you were grateful Cry was nice enough to let you wear his old clothes. You shake out your hair like a dog, then run your fingers through it. Applying whatever make-up you had in your bag: just eyeliner and mascara. You stare into the mirror at your right eye, still a bright red.

'It'll defiantly need a few days to heal. My legs are almost healed, so I should remove the stitches later today. Cry won't approve though so I'll do it while he's working.' You formulate a plan for fixing your legs as you put on the shorts. Staring at your shins, you figure he'd find out anyways so why not just do it now?

'I'll need something sharp to cut the stitch and something to pull it out.' You rummage through the bathroom drawers finding a pair of tweezers, but the only things that are sharp enough are a pair of nail-clippers. Close enough. You sit on the floor and remove the stitches one at a time until there aren't anymore. You rebandage your shins and stand in front of the mirror, looking at yourself.

'I look... Like a Kung-fu student. The only words that come to my mind right now are wild or relaxing. Which doesn't make any sense…' You step out of the bathroom quietly closing the door and walking to sit on the couch you slept on. You pull out your laptop and its charger, searching for an outlet to plug it into. You could hear something, it is very faint like a whisper. You turn to the closed door Cry had disappeared behind, tuning your ears to answer the sound. As you walk closer and closer to the door, the whisper gets more and more serious and deep. With your ear to the door, you can hear Cry talking to someone… or himself.

'This guy must work over calls, he always seems to be on the phone.' As you ease drop on the one sided conversation, he starts randomly laughing like a crazy maniac. You slowly back away from the door, stepping next to A.K. who looks up at you and meows.

'Your master… is weird, so very weird.' He's a shy recluse from what you could tell, so you wouldn't call him completely… there. He understands whats socially acceptable, but clearly doesn't do social hang-outs often; if ever. You snicker, or try to at least, but just end up blowing air out your nose. Returning to your laptop you hear Cry shout at nothing.

'I wish I had earbuds, he's starting to scare me a bit.' You simply try to ignore it. A.K. jumps up on the couch next to you, meowing. You lift up your arm to pet her, but she curls up at your side instead.

'She's really warm… and soft.' You think petting her head and scratch behind her ears. Cry shouts again, making you jump. You snort a laugh and shake your head, A.K. complaining as you remove your hand.

'Weird, weird, weird. But… I like it.'

You sat googling pictures and photoshopping crazy things, petting A.K. when she demanded it, until she fell asleep. Sitting peacefully after Cry got off the phone. He walked into the room once or twice to get a drink of water, but returned to the room right after. You grew bored and begun to browse Youtube, deciding just because you ran away from home doesn't mean you had to unsubscribe from your favorite channels. You hiss and snort, trying to laugh but just blowing air out your nose and between your teeth. Your eye grew heavy in the middle of a play though of "Beyond Two Souls," so you paused it and took a nap with A.K on your lap.

**(Cry's POV) **

It's 7:30pm when I finally emerge from the computer room, stretching my arms towards the ceiling. Adjusting my shades and ruffling my hair back, I walk into the kitchen with a craving for something salty. I dig in the cabinets and fridge, not finding anything that looks completely delectable besides a bag of tortilla chips and salsa.

'It doesn't make a good meal but whatever, its not the first time I've done it.' As I place the chips and dip on the counter, I find the notepad I gave to [Name] so she could talk to me. I re-read the shaky writing covered in tear stains, where she wrote claiming she was a dirty mute; broken and useless. I find myself looking at the couch where she is sleeping. She's like a ghost, I forgot she was here when I was recording. I lose my craving for salsa as I find myself curious in [Name],

'A.K. is asleep in her lap… she must think [Name] is a good person.' I stare at my cat who purrs lightly, wondering if I could trust her too. But what was I thinking jumping on the ball like that and just inviting her to stay? What if she escaped prison and the cuts on her legs were from climbing a barbwire fence?! Or what if she's part of an illegal trade and has diamonds hidden in her teeth?! I pull down her lip just enough to let me see into her mouth, at least her tongue hadn't been remove.

'No, no, no… I'm over thinking this. I'm just too paranoid. She's a normal girl.' I pull my hand away and shake my head, sighing. A.K. meows so by habit I tell her off.

"Hi cat. Yea? Do you have a issue?" As I speak, [Name] stirs. Shoot! If she wakes up to me staring at her I'll get the award for biggest creeper of the year. I jump away from the couch, backing into the coffee table. [Name] readjusts her head and A.K. curls closer to her chest so as to anchor her down. I just watch until she stops moving, holding my breath.

'That was close. Wait, when did she have laptop?' I remember her saying she was homeless, why would a homeless girl have a laptop? On closer inspection, I find its an outdated model. What was she doing on it? I move the cursor with the touchpad and the screen wakes up, showing me the window of Youtube. I know this webpage all too well, so I browse through her subscriptions and try to find the things she's bag sits next to her, I move it so I can sit down but the bag falls, spilling its contents onto the floor. Cursing, I quickly pick them up and put them back. I reach for the pair of jeans thrown from her backpack, when I heard a thud sound.

'What was that?' I look down on the floor under the denim, my eyes getting caught on an opal pendent. It's silver chain shining up at me. Why in the world does [Name] have a necklace like this?

'Don't tell me… she stole it.'

_**(A/N) I'm sorry, I write a lot about food. In fact I was tempted to make it a cook-along-with-the-story like they did in the Scott Pilgrim comic series. This was a filler chapter, BUT! There's tons of different things happening in the next one! STAY TUNED! **_

_**3-Gator**_


	6. (AN)

Hey, this is Gator. I don't want to hurt anybody's feeling when I say that the setup for uploading my stories are a pain to work with here. However I still wanted to open Muted to the audience. If you want to get the whole experience of the Muted story click this link vvv

story/4921797/Muted/

This will take you to my Quotev account where Muted was originally posted, it includes my daily updates and pictures for each chapter. Sorry to not continue chapters 6 onward here, but I'm not lying when I say my computer loves to _crash_ the fanfiction party.

Thanks Melons.

3-Gator


End file.
